"Do you love him?"

Father is coming home this week.
Which prompted me to ask mother, "Do you love him?"

Guess

There was silence on the other end with intervals of silent muttering.
"I think so," she finally answered.

An interval of silence lapsed.
She asked, "Are you asking because of the hardships we have between us?"

I wanted to laugh out loud, not because of the obvious problems they had, but because she had considered the unbelievable pain Father put her through as mere 'hardships.'

"No. The last time I asked, you said 'No.'"
She stared at me with guarded eyes that accused me of stabbing her where it hurt.

"I guess you changed your mind," I stabbed again.
"I guess I did," she said.

Too much to ask?

I have very mixed feelings about relationships. I can't keep any, but I constantly search for a someone that relates to me. I can't open myself up the way people want me to. I can't be one hundred percent honest about my feelings unless I really hate the person and want to cut that person down to itty bitty pieces.
People say I'm too honest. Brutally honest. Apparently, my honesty kills. I can't help it. I say how it is. I want to be vibrant and attractive and yet I want to be mysterious and sultry. I have mixed personalities. I have numerous personalities. I want to relate, but I only want stuff I really want to connect to relate. When I find a person to share anything with, I analyze everything. I jump to conclusions. I assume. I break. I tear.

Please understand. Relationships that are beautiful and full of life are so beautiful to behold that you're scared to touch them. I haven't learned how to do it properly.

People always ask me, "Why the heck do you hide so much? You're so easy to be honest and real to; you know my every secret and flaw! Why can't you show me your real self?"
Because I'm not stupid. Everyone knows things end. Besides, I've got nomadic syndrome. I get antsy after staying in one place for more than 3 or 4 years. The longest place I've ever stayed was in Hawaii for 6 years, and that's only because I had to. The span of time I allow for myself doesn't call for a deep and long-lasting affiliations.
I want to be so many things; I want to do so many things. I want to live and die and breathe and exhale. I want to see souls and hold hearts, I want to be spiritual and deeply rooted. And all without the ties and strings.
Is that too much to ask?

Ethereal

New Year Resolutions

I wanted to laugh when people started gushing about how they will change so much in 2013. Yeah, right. That won't ever happen. 
Because everyone knows that change doesn't just come because you want it. Either you were forced to change or went through something so life-changing that change was inevitable.
The stuff we mention now are superficial ones, shallow and optional.

So... I made wishes this year. I mean:
"There's no point having wishes if you don't at least try them."
- Sally Nicholls

Wishes

It's different than resolutions because wishes have no expectations and resolutions are excuses to start over because of all the regrets in the past year. I learned this from Avy's blog in her post Mirrors and Smoke.

1. I wish I could stop doubting the words people say to me. I want so much to be able to trust and be open.
2. I wish I could have a real relationship.
3. I wish I could find my real self.
4. I wish I could stop lying.
5. I wish I could forget.

Shh... Don't tell anyone...

Forget

There is still life to be lived

Losing Hope

I was expressing my opinions of my previous post to a treasured friend.

"You're anxious for things that haven't happened. That's like saying 'I'm going to die someday so I might as well not live.' You'd be missing out on the good. 
Think about all the good things that will happen because of what you consider bad."

"I can't really think of any."

He laughed and showed me a thought his friend had written:

"2013 isn't a blank slate, but a new chapter. A new chapter means that there's still hope, that there is still life to be lived. So live it well. Become who you were made to be, and don't lose sight of the ending. Which, as it turns out, it is only the beginning."

"I can't find the hope," I said. "I haven't had a relationship or even a real conversation between me and Him."

"Yeah, I felt that way, too. So I just said, 'Hey.' And it started again. I think I was genuine with Him for the first time in a long time."

"I've never been so unhappy or so scared in my life. I want so much to just rest and be in peace."

"Cling. Desperately. With your nails. He didn't go anywhere. And your past relationship doesn't matter. What's important is that you can start a new one now."

I am revived.

Finding Hope

Problems

I talked with Naomi about our issues with the world, the problems that seem to hinder our way of life. We expressed how difficult it was for people to just sit there and listen, that just lending their time for a while was as helpful as they could get. But she also thought that it was so difficult to release her troubles to someone else. What if they become disappointed in me? What if they see me in a negative light?

The fear of being unaccepted was clear.

20 - Voices in My Head

When Father asked me what I thought about him divorcing Mom, I wanted to smack him. I was sitting in the backseat of his car, so I couldn't reach his face. Wasn't he supposed to try and keep the family together? Betrayal at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.

But to be honest, I wanted him gone. It's true that hating someone is a lot easier when you can't see them. Yet, the kids needed their "Daddy," the guy who was a role model who was on one side fluffy like a teddy-bear and on the other, strong as a rock. So I said, No. No divorce. The kids need you. He smirked, as if he had already known my answer.
I proceeded to get out of the car and hightail home, trying my very best to forget his reply: That's what I thought, too. I couldn't have said it better myself.

To myself, I thought, You're such a self-sacrificing hypocrite. I couldn't have agreed more with the voice in my head.

Voices

Douleur Cachée

Here

I keep feeling an invisible hand crushing my heart.
Every thump hurts so that tears keep forming.
Where is the invisible pain coming from?
Is it something I'm missing?
Mais... Comment puis-je raté quelque chose que je n'ai jamais eu?
Too many questions today.
And to be honest, I really don't want to know the answer.

Lucky to Get Away

I pretended to be someone I wasn't, and let another fall in love with yours truly.
He was on an emotional roller coaster, and I needed to be a person who took care of others in fake sympathy.
Perfect match made in mutual agreement. Or so I thought.

I woke up from staying in bed all day and wearing nothing but sweats.
I got active, got past the mistakes, the hurt.
My heart mended.
I moved on.
Which meant cutting ties, being honest.


The fact that he couldn't made him angry, manipulative. He was too attached.
Clingy. Not the agreement.
"You used me," he screamed in my face. "Cold bitch!"
Bruises.

I'm lucky to have gotten away.

I got one thing out of him, though.
Thanks to him, I'll never date a bastard like him again.